


Doctor

by shalashaska



Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Blow Jobs, Comfort Sex, Doctor/Patient, Drug Use, Lab Sex, Light Angst, M/M, One Night Stands, Surgery, questionable medical practice, weird nazi undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 13:39:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8754055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shalashaska/pseuds/shalashaska
Summary: I haven't written anything for this show even though it's literally incredibleso here's a drabble I wrote into season 4, episode 3: "Legs"





	

He woke up in a state of combined spite and relief.

In his lower back, a dull and residing pain throbbed deeply into his flesh. He had known the procedure would be complex and extreme, but that didn’t help prepare him for it in any way – especially since his agreement to it had been somewhat dubious.

That is, if your definition of “dubious” is “I _did_ agree to it but by that point I was already under the influence of non-consensual medication”.

He was glad enough to be alive that he didn’t overthink it, though. That crazy German might not have been a real doctor, but at least he knew what he was doing. Well, it seemed like he did. If he didn’t, then he wouldn’t have succeeded. Unless…

His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a door. He suddenly realised he had forgotten to open his eyes. Artificial light flooded his eyes and he squinted through it, turning his head to attempt at surveying the small, white room he was in. However, his head was restricted by the bed, which held him face down.

He roughly recognised it as the infirmary room, which branched off of Krieger’s lab. The floor tiles were familiar, at least. At least he’d taken the time to look after him in his recovery rather than dumping him at home to fend for himself. Then again, he didn’t necessarily trust the man with any unconscious patient.

Krieger himself eventually spoke and he raised his eyebrows as he realised that Ray’s eyes were fluttering open.

“Ah, you’re awake. You remained asleep for almost 24 hours after that operation.” Ray winced at the idea of Krieger watching him sleep. “So far your recovery has been smooth and you should be able to walk around again in a few days.”

“So everything should be in working order?”

“In time, yes.”

“I… don’t know how to thank you, Krieger.”

“Oh, I’ll think of a way.”

Ray shuddered. “Dukes…”

 

\+ + + + +

 

He had been bed-ridden for a couple of days, his medication only half-numbing the ache. His legs felt heavy and sore. He could feel them. Shit, he could really feel them.

His fears had subsided slightly – he knew that Krieger couldn’t exactly be trusted. His various drug trials and crimes against all things holy could fill file after file. However, he hadn’t done anything shady. He had administered Ray’s medicine, changed his IV and handled his urine. Granted, there had been something unsettling about how he stared sometimes but this was on the safer end of the Krieger-creepiness spectrum.

There hadn’t been much to do besides sleep and listen to the sounds of machines. Throughout the day he would get visits – Pam and Carol came in during lunch break, or even abandoned their posts to visit. This wasn’t just because he was their friend; an excuse to not work was always ideal. Sometimes Archer’s showed his intoxicated face and made some crude jokes.

“You complain a lot for someone who’s used to being strapped down on a bed by other men.”

Yeh, whatever.

“Are you _sure_ that’s the _real_ reason your ass hurts?”

Brilliant.

He couldn’t hate Archer. Maybe it was out of pity, or because he had a face that made him surprisingly likeable despite his insufferable personality.

Lana visited to relay gossip, check on him and enthuse about his procedure. It was nice to have a friend who was at least  _somewhat_ functional, although there were limits to her stability.

A few times he heard Krieger listening to Rush in his lab, drumming loudly on his equipment while he worked.

When he started to help Ray move out of his face down position to lie on his back instead, he handled him with surprising delicacy. Perhaps he was just scared of breaking the line of stitches that ran from the middle of his back to his tailbone. He had run his fingers over it with extraordinary care when he changed the dressings.

Ray had striking Aryan features. His golden hair was very well-kept and his facial definition demonstrated amazing skeletal structure. In fact, for a man in a wheelchair he had maintained impressive physical fitness. Krieger noticed all of this. He said nothing, knowing that Ray might feel uncomfortable with being called “Aryan”. Of course, he found himself staring. Even now, in a state of recovery, he managed to not look ugly.

“You should be able to stand now, with some help.”

He spluttered for a moment. “Wow, really? Already?”

“If you’re willing to try, yes.”

“Man, you might be a possible Nazi but… that doesn’t discredit you.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

“Well, you want to try walking?”

“Yes.”

 

\+ + + + +

 

“Hey, Krieger – I mean, uh…”

“Doctor.”

“Your name is Doctor?”

“Doctor Algernop Krieger.”

He snorted, but quickly stopped when he realised he was losing balance.

Krieger handled the physiotherapy, which wasn’t that surprising since the entire legal situation behind this made it almost impossible to bring in any outside help. Nobody wanted to help out a fake doctor with a track record like his. His most recent intern had quit about a month ago, as they usually did. Besides, Ms. Archer probably had some shady technicalities on his medical insurance.

It mostly consisted of preparatory leg stretches, walking on a slow treadmill with (and eventually without) crutches and balance tests. He was shaky at first, which was to be expected, but he progressed quickly and his recovery was steady. Eventually he was able to support his weight and maintain balance, after 4 days. He still found that his co-ordination needed more attention, and that running caused some pain after about a minute, but he was getting better. Weight training would eventually make up for his muscle loss.

As he loosened the straps that fastened his ankle weights, he remembered what they had spoken about a week ago. He gave it some thought for a moment, before noticing that Krieger was looking in his direction.

“Lemme guess… you have a question.”

“Uh… yeh.”

“Well, go ahead. Shoot.”

“You know what you said about being able to…”

“Go on.”

“Well, ya know… being able to have sex like before.”

 

\+ + + + +

 

He wasn’t really sure why he let it happen. Maybe it was some muddled combination of sexual frustration and medication. Hell, even jerking off would be good enough to figure out for himself whether or not everything worked.

He wasn’t even sure why the other would want to do this with him, although his sexuality had always been less than simple. This was a man whose sexual preferences spanned into some illegal territories – interest in men wasn’t too far-fetched.

Either way he was surprisingly talented at giving head. He moved his tongue with familiarity, taking it hungrily into his mouth. His facial hair was slightly ticklish, but it wasn’t unenjoyable.

Ray was already certain that it worked – it wasn’t long before his erection swelled and filled Doctor’s mouth completely. He instinctively leaned his hips upward and suddenly the man retreated.

“Easy now, I’m your doctor. I can take care of you.”

“You’re not even a real doctor.” Ray criticised his cheesy attempt at dirty talk, not wanting to admit that he found it somehow arousing.

“Don’t ruin the mood.” He pulled a small, unassuming remote control switch from his lab coat pocket, his finger hovering over it.

“Wait, wait! Okay. Sorry.” Ray recognised it as the switch that activated and deactivated the CPU of his bionics. “I didn’t think you cared about that.”

“I don’t!”

He quickly resumed the blowjob before Ray could respond, staring up at him to observe his facial expressions. If anything felt unusual or different, he would know instantly. Yes, this was mainly just an excuse to watch his beautiful Aryan features contort and twitch, but he would never admit that.

“Mmh… it feels better than ever. You’ve done a great job.” Or maybe he was just doing a great job right now. It was probably a combination of both. “Ah… Doctor…”

 

\+ + + + +

 

 

After scraping a sweaty, naked and alarmingly malnourished Sterling Archer off the carpet and onto a stretcher, they wheeled him through the lab and into the infirmary.

“You guys remember what to do, yes?”

Carol looked at him in a glue-fuelled daze. “Sorry, what?”

“Good.”

He’d survive, probably. If he didn’t then… oh well.

Krieger walked back through the long hallway to the main office, alone. He heard someone approaching from the other end of the hall. He looked up to see Ray.

They made eye contact for a moment, and quickly broke it. Ray disappeared into the bathroom. Krieger kept walking.


End file.
